


If Something Can Go Wrong

by MechanicalMomo



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers' sass, Tumblr Prompt, because why not?, how original right?, the one where Bucky is a mechanic, trope prompt, trope: random meetings/sharing an umbrella/caught in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalMomo/pseuds/MechanicalMomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or the one where Murphy has his way with Bucky, to good effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Something Can Go Wrong

Of course it would rain, today of all days, when he was late for work and his car wouldn’t start, because why wouldn’t it? Shutting the car door with a little more force than slightly necessary, Bucky pocketed his keys and palmed his cellphone, thinking of who he could call. His sister was already in her first morning class, and he knew better than to call Clint before noon, but he could chance Natasha—

“Sorry, James, I can’t.”

—or not.

“C’mon, Nat, please?” he begged, peering out from under the brick sheltering of his building’s front stoop. The rain showed no sign of letting up.

“I have a presentation in half an hour that I can’t be late for, can’t you just take the bus?” she asked, not without sympathy.

“Guess I’ll have to,” he sighed. “Thanks anyways.”

“Sorry, again. I’ll make it up to you?”

“You’d better. I want breakfast for dinner, lots of pancakes, and hash browns with cheese!”

“Yeah, yeah. Good luck, kiddo.”

“You too.”

With another sigh and a tug of his jacket, Bucky re-pocketed his phone, glancing at the sky one last time as he mapped out the quickest route to the bus stop a few blocks away. He knew the shop wasn’t open yet, but he could leave a voicemail at the front desk for his boss as he waited for the bus.

“Here goes nothin’,” he muttered as he took off.

 

Unsurprisingly, he was absolutely drenched when he reached the bus stop ten minutes later, darting under the plastic structure and flinging himself onto the bench with a sigh of relief. His shoes and socks gushed uncomfortably, and his shaggy brown hair dripped cold water down his neck, making him shiver.

Pulling out his phone again, he called the shop and waited for the answering machine to pick up.

“Hey, it’s Barnes,” he began when it did, “Just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be late, my car wouldn’t start and I’m waitin’ for the bus. Shouldn’t be too long, next bus’ll be here in…” he glanced at the schedule posted above his head and groaned. “Twenty minutes, because apparently I just missed the last one. I’ll call back.” And with that, he hung up and scrubbed a hand across his face in frustration.

Why hadn’t he just stayed home? He sat back with a huff and closed his eyes.

Over the drumming of rain overhead, he heard a pair of voices, and he opened his eyes to see a scrawny, blond kid on the corner offering his umbrella to a young mother with a stroller. At first she refused, but he insisted and she took it, thanking him repeatedly as he blushed and waved her off. The light changed and she went on her way, and the boy hurried under the plastic awning, shaking the wetness off his shoes and pushing his damp blond bangs from his face.

“Morning,” he greeted cheerfully as he sat down, settling his large canvass messenger bag in his lap. Bucky grunted in return, incredibly not interested in conversation with a random stranger on top of everything else this morning.

“Ball of sunshine today, huh?” the boy continued, not put off in the slightest. His smile and blue eyes were bright, and, while really adorable, just a touch annoying. He had to be one of those perpetually chipper people, the kind that Clint insisted were actually aliens in disguise.

“Bad day,” he mumbled, huddling into himself in search of warmth. He found very little.

“Looks like it,” the kid grinned, taking in his sodden appearance. “What happened?”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” was Bucky’s grumpy reply, and the kid laughed, actually laughed. It took all of his strength to hold back another groan.

“Not yet, I had daycare first,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “My first class isn’t till 10. Normally I walk, which is actually good because I have to leave the house pretty early. Now I have time to let the rain let up.”

Bucky’s lip quirked at the sassy bite of the kid’s tone. “What, are you one of those genius kids that skipped four grades?”

The boy snorted. “I wish. I’m 23, you jerk,” he replied good-naturedly.

“Punk,” he shot back automatically, feeling his lips twitch again.

The blond chuckled and pushed his bangs back again. “So what’s your deal, huh? Someone piss in your Cheerios?”

Flinging his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles, Bucky shrugged. “Just one of those days. Woke up late for work, so of course my car wouldn’t start, so of course it started raining, so of course I couldn’t find a ride, and so on,” he said, waving a hand about.

“Murphy’s Law,” the kid said sympathetically. “Let me guess, you got here just to find out that you missed the bus?”

Bucky nodded with an agonized moan. “Hadn’t even been five minutes.”

“Yikes. Where do you work?”

“Garage downtown. We don’t open till 10 and I thought I’d get lucky just once, but, well.”

The kid was quiet for a moment and then glanced at Bucky, his eyes glinting with humor. “Wait, you work at a garage, and you couldn’t get your car to start?” he teased, his grin impossibly wide.

Dumbstruck, Bucky blinked against the brightness of the guy’s smile as the words sunk in. Suddenly, he laughed out loud.

“Yeah, yeah I guess so. Pretty dumb, huh?”

“I’ll say.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle, the brunet relaxed a bit. “So what’re you taking? What’s your major?”

“Ah, art, you know, stuff for graphic design, maybe, or advertising, who knows, s’long as it pays?” he answered, digging through his bag and pulling out a hardcover sketchbook and flipping the pages.

Leaning over to get a look, Bucky whistled low, looking impressed. “You’re really good!” he said as the kid turned page after page of seascape, skylines, portraits, and still lifes.

The blonde’s fair skin flushed to the roots of his hair in a way that Bucky found absolutely endearing. “Yeah?” he asked hopefully, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Hell yeah,” the brunet enthused. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” the kid said bashfully. “Art was the only thing my mom could afford to put me in growing up, so it’s less talent and more experience, really, but I love it, so…”

“I can tell,” Bucky said, leaning back to avoid dripping water on the pages. He opened his mouth to ask the kid his name when his phone rang, cutting him off. Quirking a grin in his companion’s direction, Bucky answered his boss’s call as the kid rummaged around and reorganized the contents of his bag. After a few minutes, Bucky ended the call with a sigh, but he was still smiling.

“Everything okay?” the kid asked.

“Yeah, he was going to nag no matter how late I was, so I don’t care. Bus’ll be here in a minute anyway. Thanks for helpin to pass the time.”

“No problem, I should probably go ahead and get going myself.”

“But you don’t have an umbrella,” Bucky protested; he’d kind of been hoping the kid would take the bus with him.

With twinkling blue eyes, the blond stood and adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, rocking on his heels before stepping out into the steadily pattering rain. “That’s why I always carry a spare,” he replied with a grin as he darted off, leaving Bucky dumbfounded. Glancing down, he gaped as he caught sight of the navy blue mini umbrella on the bench next to him.

“What even was that kid?” he mumbled as he picked it up and began unwinding the Velcro. As the flaps rustled open, the brunet blinked as a folded piece of paper fluttered into his lap. Unfolding it in confusion, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out as he read the digits and simple message scrawled in bright blue ink “So you can return it later!” signed with a smiley face. Shooting up, he hurried out onto the sidewalk, where he could see the kid halfway up the street at a crosswalk that was about to change.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name!” he called, and the blond turned around, expression nothing short of mischievous.

“Call me sometime and find out!” he hollered back as the ‘walk’ sign lit up and he darted across the street.

And then he was gone.

Standing on the sidewalk, Bucky tucked the note into his back pocket and opened the umbrella fully. The bus pulled up, but he turned from the open door and began down the street.

He’d rather walk.

**Author's Note:**

> This was an ask-box trope challenge from my precious adamantiymskeletons, who requested stucky.


End file.
